


Waking Up To Ash and Dust

by iamtheoneinthehole



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Dragon AU, Myan-Centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-09-01
Packaged: 2018-02-07 22:00:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1915395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamtheoneinthehole/pseuds/iamtheoneinthehole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where Wargs, Naga and Harpies are rife, civilization practically non-existent and where dragons rule the skies, survival has always been Ryan’s greatest goal… it’s just that the odds have never exactly been in his favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All For A Fucking Cow

**Author's Note:**

> A brand new multichapter au featuring sorcery, eventual ah ot6 and lots of dragons! Enjoy!

_‘All beasts are monsters, and man perhaps the most monstrous of all. For it is only the greatest of a realm’s horrors that claims that realm for its own, affeared by all other beasts and thus unchallenged in their dominion over all, until that is a greater beast should rise to take its place.’- The Hierarchy of Beasts, Marcus Nutt_

\----

Whoever it was that’d first compared being in love to a passionate flame had clearly never been on fucking _fire…_

Otherwise, he was immensely glad that a life on the run hadn’t exactly lent itself to a romance of it’s own because if this was love? He found himself glad that this was one form of fire he’d managed to escape unscathed.

But he still strongly expected exaggeration on the part of whichever man or woman had first been responsible for the comparison because every muscle in Ryan’s body ached, seared and stung with a pain that was practically unbearable. Far greater than the slight poisons of berries he probably shouldn’t have risked eating, or even the sharp biting sting of the Warg’s claws which had torn into him as a mere child, fleeing a burning city.

If that hadn’t been the case, he’d never even think to consider seeking refuge in the nearby woods where those beasts were known to prowl and hunt… but the risk of encountering another of their kind, or any other creatures that might be lurking amidst the trees, considerably paled in comparison to the mere thought of having those same flames lick their way up his calves once more.

And so he stumbled, crawled and practically dragged himself across grass that was rapidly turning to ash, only allowing his efforts to stop when a shadow that wasn’t the creature in pursuit finally fell across his body and the loud thundering cry of his seemingly imminent demise finally grew softer, though not so soft that he dared to shift from his position just yet.

Instead he simply shifted to pull a crudely made hunting knife from his belt, just barely keeping in the cry of agony as his hands brushed across the burns that were only growing in their heat and intensity now that the original source of danger was rapidly fading away with every flap of it’s colossal sized wings...

Sometimes it was hard to believe it hadn’t always been this way. Hard to believe that man had once been the most powerful of all beasts, enough to confine the wargs to the woods, the naga to their coves, and the harpies to the skies, never daring to set foot in humanity’s strongholds… Ryan couldn’t remember any different after all, and those who did, rarely spoke of it, or of anything that’d occurred before the great blaze. Before the dragons came.

Ryan didn’t really tend to linger on it too much. To him, the dragons were simply an unfortunate, deadly and more than slightly menacing fact of life. And most of the time? They were even an avoidable danger, unlike the harpies that swarmed the skies, the naga that’d long since moved inland from the waters or the wargs that’d long since ventured out of their woodland shelters. Dragons kept to their caves, to their hordes. If they didn’t, Ryan seriously doubted that there’d actually have been any humans left at this stage. Dragons simply guarded what they considered to be _theirs_ , and as a result it’d been a long time since anyone had carried gold, silver, jewels or gems. Like fiery, oversized magpies, they seemed to be invariably fond of shiny things.

And since anything shiny and precious had long since been stripped away from anywhere that wasn’t amidst a dragon’s hoard, it was rare these days to see one take flight and abandon their hoard, save for when they hunted, to the point where it was almost possible to pretend they didn’t exist, so long as you steered clear of their hunting grounds and gave any large caves where they might’ve nested a wide berth… Unfortunately though, it was just as possible to get cocky under those circumstances.

A part of him had known he’d been asking for trouble when he’d ventured into the plains directly beside that cave, but the risk had seemed worth the rewards of avoiding the naga settlement nearby, and perhaps even seeking out the food that others wouldn’t have ever dared to. Not with that cave’s mouth so close by, and the great blaze still scorched in the memory of so many of those who’d survived it.

But Ryan had no memories of that devastation beyond his father’s stories, nor any more recent encounters to sway him from his arrogance. He’d never even seen a dragon until the moment he’d turned, knife poised just above the cow he’d stumbled across’ throat, to meet the sight of a rapidly approaching shadow casting itself across the plains, and the winged creature it’d belonged to…

He thanked the gods at least that he’d at least had the instinct to run, and to keep running, even as the first flames had begun to scorch across the earth, quickly taking grass, and trees, and even the poor ill-fated cow he’d intended to kill for his first proper meal in months… in hindsight, he should’ve kept to smaller kills and questionable berries. At least those didn’t leave angry looking blotchy skin along his legs, his arms, his back and a sinking feeling that had nothing to do with hunger in his gut.

A part of him wondered if the dragon had been cooking him up for a meal of it’s own… another part quickly decided that the answer wasn’t an important one, and that avoiding becoming a similar meal to Wargs, or any other creature that might be lurking amongst the trees, was probably a better use of his time and priorities right now.

All the same though, it was hard to focus on anything other than the still rapidly building pain in his limbs, the white hot pain immobilizing him where he sat, or more accurately sprawled, now that initial burst of survival driven adrenaline had worked its way out of his system. He tried not to think about it, nor to register the worrying blackened color of the backs of his calves, or the fact that he could just about make out the bone in the wrist not weakly grasping his hunting knife.

He strongly suspected at this stage that he was dying, if not from the burns, than infection, hunger or perhaps something equally hungry. Once he’d settled on that, what else was there to do but consider his life, its limited highlights, and the incredibly poor choices that’d led to it being cut short.

And all for a fucking cow.

Even so, he couldn’t help but register the faint rustle of leaves in the distance, nor quite repress his instinctual reaction to tense at the potential threat… Which was quite possibly the worst decision, however subconsciously done, that he could’ve possibly made because suddenly the pain weaving its way along his skin increased tenfold and nothing, not even the threat of the dragon itself, could’ve kept the pained gasp from his lips in response to that.

He knew it hadn’t been missed by whatever creature it was that was lurking in the shadows either. The pause that’d followed his slip up gave that much away, and moments later the rustles began to grow louder, moving closer and closer, and it was all Ryan could fucking do to resist the urge to make _more_ pained noises as he attempted to grasp his knife a little tighter, a part of him determined that if he must die here, he could at least take this creature with him.

He hadn’t been expecting a man to burst into the clearing, nor had he expected the look of pity he’d received when he’d caught sight of him. And at any other time, he’d probably have bristled a little in response but as it was, pity was probably a lot more than Ryan deserved. What he’d expected least of all though was the sudden soothing sensation along his back, nor the way he’d suddenly felt a similar breeze smoothing along his skin and… weren’t those tree branches suddenly a lot closer than they’d been before?

He’d fallen victim to exhaustion long before he’d had the chance to process his thoughts into actual coherent questions. In fact, there was only one thing he’d just about managed to catch before his eyelids fell heavy against his cheeks, the man’s name. Flynt.

\----

Heat was the first thing he’d registered after that.

Not the horrific stifling heat that’d left him as little more than a burnt out husk, waiting for his battle wounds to finally take hold, but instead a sort of warmth… earthy, comforting, peaceful. He tried to equate it to a memory of some kind but a part of him strongly suspected that he’d never actually felt this at ease before, certainly not as far as he remembered anyway.

Perhaps this was what dying felt like. The relief from the threat of predators, an existence free from pain and suffering. And perhaps he’d been wrong to fight against it so vehemently if that was the case, and especially if it was the will of the gods for things to be as they were… He’d just idly begun to wonder if he’d see the cow he’d indirectly managed to kill in this afterlife when the faint sound of a vaguely familiar voice caught his attention.

His eyes gradually flickered open after that, brain taking a few seconds to form the connection between the flash of raven black hair and steely cold gaze with the man he’d caught just a glimpse of before in the woods… _Flynt_. Did that make this man death? It didn’t seem entirely impossible, especially considering the way Ryan had seemed to be floating off the ground before. Plus, the fact that the burns hadn’t seemed to bother him once since he’d opened his eyes was definitely a point in favor of the definitely dead column…

But yet, if he were dead, wouldn’t he and death be somewhere else that a flimsy looking shelter amidst woods that looked just as menacing as they’d always appeared from the outskirts? And wouldn’t his paranoia for the world around him have melted away with the pain?

He chanced the slight shift of one of his limbs, regretting the decision mere moments later as the burning sensation was suddenly back, searing across his skin, though still a little more muted than it’d been before, “You’re healing well but… I still wouldn’t risk moving around too much. After all, you’re lucky to still be alive, even with my intervention. By rights you should’ve died from those burns.”

“What can I say, I’m stubborn.”

“To have outrun a dragon, you must be.” No pity in the stranger’s gaze, not this time, Ryan found himself gratified to note. Just a wry sort of honesty, blunt but effective, and something that almost seemed to border on respect.

“All the same, I’m pretty sure ‘stubbornness’ isn’t the only reason I’ve managed to defy your odds with these.” He nodded towards where he could still see just the faintest traces of black across the back of his left calf, careful not to jostle any of his frayed or charred skin in the process.

“Well I’ll admit, I may have had a hand or two in that.” A cryptic smile curved Flynt’s lips, cryptic and more than a little frustrating, but Ryan knew better than to say as much, especially when he was still badly wounded, and quite possibly even immobile. As much as he hated it, this stranger held the upper hand, best to give into his whims for now and conserve any energy he had for a daring escape he might have to attempt further down the line.

Of course any frustration immediately evaporated into shock, and just the smallest hint of alarm, when moments later he found himself lifting just an inch off the earth he’d been resting against, his expression obviously doing very little to conceal either given the amused chuckle that’d escaped the man’s lips, “Tell me, are you familiar at all with sorcery?”

“Not particularly.” He knew a little. Bedtime stories from his mother tended to feature them pretty heavily as brave and noble protectors of humanity, and a world long since consumed by ash and smoke. Beyond that though, Ryan had never really given that much thought to them, and his father had never bothered to broach upon the topic, to point where he’d become halfway convinced that the sorcerers were as much a myth as a human-led world was these days. If they’d ever existed, they had to be long gone by this point.

And yet here this man was, claiming the contrary, and as little as Ryan usually budged on his world views, he found it was a lot easier to believe in magic with his body still suspended a good few inches off the ground, and the bone he’d caught a glimpse of before at his wrist no longer visible, barely even scarred.

“I suppose we should start with the basics then.” He offered, carefully easing Ryan’s body back to the ground, before moving to take a seat opposite him, eyeing him curious for just a few more moments before adding, “Don’t suppose I could ask for a name in return for an explanation?”

“Ryan.” The name felt strange on his tongue, unspoken for so long now that he almost found himself uncertain as to whether or not he’d even managed to pronounce it correctly. After all, the last time he’d heard it was years ago… before his father had decided to ‘be a hero’ and take on a pair of harpies, and his mother had followed as the actual hero who’d managed to save Ryan’s life after he’d failed. It didn’t sound entirely wrong though and if Flynt thought differently? He didn’t let it show as he absentmindedly stoked the fire of their makeshift camp to life a little more with a flick of his wrist and began explaining.

\----

Even hours later, when the fire was mere embers, and the night dark in a way that still felt foreboding, even with the man present at his side… Ryan _still_ couldn’t quite comprehend the situation he’d found himself in.

Just a handful of hours ago he’d been prepared for a death that’d seemed inevitable and yet... here he was. Safe, alive and in the care of a man who could bend the very earth around him to his will… Had he believed in some kind of fate, or destiny, perhaps he’d have attributed _that_ to this sudden shift in circumstance. But even knowing there was such a thing as sorcery in the world, that the ones who wielded it drew their power from the elements around them and were, by rights, just as powerful as the dragons themselves… fate somehow _still_ seemed a little too fanciful in his mind.

Luck then perhaps, though he’d had a hard time believing in even _that_ before now. But how else could he explain his continued existence, let alone the fact that his burns had practically melted away to a litany of scars across his skin by this point. They barely even stung now when he ran his fingers over them, tingling a little perhaps but… in comparison to the overwhelming agony that’d surged up from those limbs before without so much as a flinch of movement? A little tingling he could probably deal with.

He’d been told the scars would stay, apparently sorcery _did_ have its limitations, but that thought was almost a comfort in Ryan’s mind. In a strange way, their presence was a reminder of the fact that, despite the odds, he _had_ survived. Because their concrete imperfection was proof enough that he hadn’t passed on to some idyllic afterlife, a notion he’d considered more than once since Flynt had drifted off, leaving Ryan alone with his own thoughts.

Because had his mother been right about a ‘better life after this one’, wouldn’t it have been much like this one suddenly seemed. Painless, protected, warm… it might not be perfect but it was easily the closest to it that Ryan had ever come. And after a lifetime of struggle, vulnerability and blistering heat? It was an imperfection that he found himself more than willing to settle for… for now at least.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about staying with Flynt in the long term, not when his instincts practically screamed at him that this was a creature far more powerful than him and all of the consequences that said power entailed. There was a chance, of course, that staying at the sorcerer’s side could provide him with protection, companionship and a life he’d never dared to believe was possible for him. Certainly, it was one that Flynt had seemed willing to offer to him, the man admitting to Ryan that he was lonely in these woods and his company would be more than welcome here…

But, at the same time, Flynt could turn. He hardly knew anything about this man after all. Chances were there was a reason he lived alone here since surely Ryan couldn’t have been the first person he’d run into... And if he did turn on Ryan? Well, he’d already had one run-in with a creature which could bend the elements to its will recently… and he didn’t exactly like his chances anymore this time than he had back then.

What choice did he have though? Of course, Flynt had presented his offer as one, even going so far as to give Ryan ‘as much time as he needed’ to come to a final decision but, despite his recent actions suggesting otherwise, Ryan _did_ in fact have a brain capable of rational thought. And that rational thought had pointed out that the moment he left Flynt’s care, he exposed himself to wargs and harpies almost instantly. After all, wargs still kept mostly to these woods out of habit and they weren’t exactly in an area so enclosed that harpies wouldn’t be able to swoop down and snatch him… Even ignoring those threats, the dragon from before was still close by.

Perhaps his odds weren’t particularly great if he stayed but they rapidly plummeted to non-existent the moment he even considered leaving. In the end, it was an easy, albeit uneasily made, choice.


	2. Out of the Cooking Pot...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the few fragments of a legacy that Ryan’s parents had left behind them was an old colony saying; one that his mother had been particularly fond of whenever his father’s rash decision making landed them in inevitably greater peril. Out of the cooking pot, into the flames…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second part of a new multichapter au featuring sorcery, eventual ah ot6 and lots of dragons! This update is also a part of a 500 follower celebration currently taking place on my tumblr (of the same name). Feel free to stop by if you want to prompt a mini ficlet, and take part in the celebrations :)

_‘Great are our defenses. Indestructible walls of brass, insurmountable gates of iron, undefeated brave and noble warriors who tirelessly pace these walls of glory… But for all these defences, none is so great as the protection given to us by those gifted with sorcery, whose limits we still know not… The day we lose these invaluable allies is the day humanity surely must crumble away to dust.’- A History of the Third Great Colony of the West, His Majesty King Edgar the First_

\----

One of the few fragments of a legacy that Ryan’s parents had left behind them was an old colony saying; one that his mother had been particularly fond of whenever his father’s rash decision making landed them in inevitably greater peril. Out of the cooking pot, into the flames…

Clearly whatever gods his mother had once prayed to had a twisted sense of humor then, to make the cooking pot in his scenario a blazing inferno and his flames… Well, perhaps it was better not knowing the exact nature of those, especially when the cooking pot in this scenario was still so close at hand. It was easier to pretend he’d escaped the flames, after all, than to admit to himself that he was trapped between the certain death of a dragon’s fury, and the only slightly less certain wrath of the sorcerer he now traveled with when he inevitably pushed him too far.

Inevitably because he’d already managed to come close several times in the mere handful of days he’d spent with the man so far. Because the moment he’d accepted his offer, pretenses of the light hearted stranger from before had slowly began to fall away, little by little at first so that Ryan had hardly noticed it… until the first time he’d accidentally gone against one of Flynt’s unspoken rules.

_No wandering off._

He’d just been curious to explore the forest they were camped out in a little further, see how many water sources there were, check the layout of the forest floor in case they had to run at some point. It was a habit so ingrained into Ryan at this point that he hadn’t even fully realized the steps his feet were taking, not until a firm hand had landed on his shoulder, causing him to stumble a little in his steps in a way that’d have almost been comical if not for the look in Flynt’s eyes.

The expression had quickly lifted once he’d led Ryan back to their camp, Flynt explaining in a cheery tone about how it was a lot wiser to stay at his side considering the predators that could be lurking in these woods but… something about the words that’d followed had set Ryan’s teeth on edge.

_‘We wouldn’t want you to get hurt now, would we?’_

Perhaps it was what felt like a lifetime on the run, combined with Ryan’s own natural paranoia, at work but he’d gotten the sense that any harm that might come to him as a result of leaving the sorcerer’s side had little to do with any potential ‘predators’ that could be hidden within the surrounding foliage.

And after his recent run in with the cooking pot, he had no desire to encounter the flames so… no wandering off. Or asking too many questions about sorcery, the spells he cast, the lack of wargs in these woods… the woods in general for that matter. No hunting for food, no asking about Flynt’s childhood, family, or any kind of reference to his past. The list grew longer and longer every day, and it hadn’t taken long for Ryan to realize he was imprisoned here, as much by the man keeping him company as by the beast prowling the nearby skies… perhaps even more so because the dragon only wanted him dead, and at least in that there was some kind of freedom.

Not that Ryan particularly _wanted_ to die, not after how hard he’d fought all these years to achieve the opposite goal, but every extra day he spent in Flynt’s ‘care’ made the prospect seem just the slightest bit more appealing...

There was little point in considering it though, not when Flynt’s ever watchful gaze made it less of an option and more of an impossibility. The sorcerer treated him, in essence, like a parent would their wayward child, constantly keeping an extra eye on him in case he stepped out of line, never seeming to rest (perhaps sorcerers didn’t require sleep the way humans did), rarely leaving Ryan to his own devices, always _always_ watching.

Sometimes he found himself questioning exactly how his sanity had remained intact up to this point… at others he remembered the series of events that had trapped him here and conceded to himself that there probably wasn’t much of it left to lose. Who else, after all, would take on a dragon for the sake of a cow.

At least, in this new arrangement, Ryan ate well. Flynt apparently had some uncanny knack for luring in their meals, the animal’s eyes glazing over in a way that he was pretty sure would forever haunt his nightmares as they wandered into their camp as calmly as if they were ambling through grassy fields instead of towards the slaughter.

Sometimes he wondered if Flynt could perform the same tricks on humans, if one day he’d awake with the same sheen over his eyes and no thoughts in his brain other than _obey…_ He prayed to whatever gods might be listening that he’d never give Flynt a reason to find out.

Out of the cooking pot into the flames after all, and if there was one thing Ryan had learned recently, it was how poorly he’d been built to withstand any kind of blaze.

\----

“Hey Ryan.” Ryan looked up from where he’d idly been watching the flames flicker, relieved to see a reasonably calm expression on the sorcerer’s face which probably meant it wasn’t one of those ‘unspoken rule’ talks.

“Yeah?”

“You’ve been pretty quiet today, something wrong?”

“Nothing really-”

“Then why so quiet?” Perhaps he’d spoken too soon, “You know people consider it rude when you don’t talk to them.”

“I was just tired… didn’t sleep too well last night.”

“You didn’t? Why didn’t you say so? I know some spells that could ease that process for you…” Ryan did his best not to flinch at the offer, the thought of Flynt casting any kind of spell over him more than a little unnerving.

“I didn’t want to trouble you… I’m sure I’ll sleep better tonight anyway.”

“Yes, I’m sure you will.” The sorcerer’s eyes were cold for a moment, the chill of that lingering along Ryan’s skin long after the man’s disposition turned sunny once more. He’d then gone off to inform Ryan that tomorrow he planned to take him on a ‘grand tour’ of the nearby forest, a gesture that would’ve seemed almost thoughtful given his earlier concerns about the area had it not been for the fact that Flynt was the one suggesting it.

Still, he’d take what he could get. At least this way he might be able to curb some of the wanderlust in his blood that’d reared its ugly head the moment that the first unspoken rule had arisen. Plus, he’d be able to escape, for a few hours at least, the sight of the scorched trees just at the edge of their camp that were an ever present reminder, as much as the numerous scars he now bore, of exactly why he was trapped there.

Living in a cage was preferable, after all, when you couldn’t see its bars.

\----

The sun was easy to take for granted, especially in a world where seeing it meant being exposed to the creatures which prowled the skies… but seeing it, unobscured, for the first time in what might’ve been weeks was enough to make Ryan’s breath catch a little in his throat as if he were discovering it anew.

For the first time since he’d agreed to stay, he found himself wanting to thank Flynt for something, even if it was as simple as this… he wondered what it said about himself and the situation he’d landed himself in that the sight of the sun was a cause worthy of his gratitude. But he didn’t linger on the thought too long, not with the rare sound of birdsong in the trees surrounding the clearing, and an even rarer easy smile on Flynt’s face as he allowed Ryan to take in the view.

“You know, this is probably the safest open space in the world these days. Dragons don’t care for it since their nests are just far enough away, and harpies dare not venture here because of the brass woven into the trees which surround it.”

“Brass?”

“Wards them off. Whether from allergy or just an irrational fear, no one knows. But it’s practically the only thing that can keep them away.”

“Did you-?” He cut himself off, the unspoken rule about Flynt’s past circulating through his brain just a moment too late but… apparently the man was feeling charitable today because instead of a cold look accompanied by a vaguely menacing threat? He was given an _answer_.

“Myself and a couple of others, tutors of mine I suppose. They helped me come into my abilities when we first fled here, just shortly after the blaze began… this was actually one of the first enchantments I successfully cast.” The sorcerer admitted, gesturing to the nearest tree whose branches were wrapped in a not-quite-gold color which he assumed to be the metal, “There’s also wards against wargs woven into the earth and it’s not warded against naga, but they rarely stray this far inland so it’s safe or at least, as safe as it gets these days.”

“It’s incredible.” Flynt smiled at that, a small, but easily the most genuine, one he’d seen grace the man’s lips.

“It’s where I want you to go, if ever a dragon, wargs or perhaps even fellow men pose a threat to our camp… Sorcerers have weapons for that which you do not.” He rested a light hand on Ryan’s shoulder, still not quite comforting but equally not nearly so much of a threat as it’d been before, “And I’ve quite liked having your company, I wouldn’t want one of those threats to tear it away.”

His words still had the light edge to them that they always did but… it was concern, not coldness, that seemed to win out in the man’s expression, enough to have Ryan agreeing with more ease than he had to anything else he’d been offered by the sorcerer.

They’d lingered for a little while afterwards, watching as idle leaves fell from branches overhead, before Flynt steered him back towards the heart of the forest, picking up the tour where they’d left off before, and just like that, his taste of fleeting almost-freedom was over, drifting away with the fallen leaves.

\----

Months passed, or at least they seemed to, and Ryan almost forgot what it was to run, to hide… not quite to fear, Flynt’s presence demanded that at least a fragment of that be felt at all times, but it was never quite the terror of before and, for that, Ryan found himself immeasurably grateful.

In fact, he’d almost become convinced that the safe clearing Flynt had shown him was obsolete, the day he awoke to the all too familiar smell of rising smoke, eyes snapping open to the sight of white hot flames tearing their way through the undergrowth, their source hot on their tails…

He bolted, the sound of the dragon’s unearthly screech ringing in his ears as his hands snagged around the emergency pack Flynt had for such situations. _Just keep running._ He could almost feel the flames at his heels if he focussed on the heat. _Keep running_. Was that smell his own flesh burning, or just some poor unfortunate creature that’d accidentally stumbled into his path. _Fucking run!_ The unmistakable feeling of the back of his left calf getting scorched by a stray spark, not enough to set it alight, but enough to remind him of the consequences, should the dragon get much closer…

And then suddenly a bright surge of light behind him and Flynt was barking orders to get to the clearing _now._ Never in his life had Ryan obeyed an order so easily.

He had a new litany of cuts, bruises and one particularly nasty looking gash across his right knee when he finally stumbled his way into the clearing. How he’d gotten them? He wasn’t entirely sure, the vaguest memories of tripping mostly obscured by the adrenaline still coursing through his system as he finally collapsed against a tree, rooting around in the bag he’d brought with him for a bandage of some kind, just to give him something to do other than focus in on the smoke he could still see rising in the distance.

The dragon had found him, had actually come for him despite the protection of trees and the sorcerer that always hovered over his shoulder these days. It had waited, calculating when Ryan’s guard would be down before it struck, but it had never once forgotten or forgiven. He still might die, and all for that one fucking cow.

But this time he had an advantage, this time he had Flynt and, for all his worryingly obsessive, controlling tendencies, Flynt wanted him alive. He’d once told Ryan that the power of a sorcerer was practically equal to that of a dragons since the root of it was, in essence, the same. He just hoped Flynt hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d made those claims...

A rough drag of material against the cut in his knee brought his mind back to the present as he focused his energies on wrapping the wound, rubbing a little of the weird looking salve on some of the smaller cuts to take away their sting before shifting a little closer to the centre of the clearing.

The sun seemed a lot less freeing this time when he gazed up, bright and hot and all too similar to the flames tearing up the forest nearby. He wondered, briefly, if it was worth making a run for it now, while both of his captors were suitably distracted but… he didn’t like the odds of outrunning a dragon, nor Flynt for that matter, if he took a wrong turn. Which would be all too easy when he’d only seen these parts of the woods once before.

Besides, as little as he liked or in fact trusted the sorcerer he’d stayed with, the man _had_ saved his life. In some circles that meant a life debt, in all it meant leaving the man responsible to die was a fucking dick move. By rights, he shouldn’t even be hiding here but… it’d been what _Flynt_ had wanted.

There was nothing he could really do against a dragon anyway, he’d learned as much the first time. Wargs you could fight, harpies you could apparently ward away with brass and naga you could just general avoid… humanity had no known way though of combating dragons. The tales of dragon slayers were simply that, mere fabrications and fables, stories told to children to help them sleep easy at night.

Man did not possess the strength, the power nor the courage to kill a dragon.

Or perhaps they did. It was a little conceited, after all, to base man’s abilities off his own experiences but… even if some humans out there did possess the means to fight these beasts, Ryan was far from one of them. He was no stronger than his fallen parents, possessed none of the powers that Flynt wielded and in terms of courage? Ryan had to be the most cowardly person he’d known.

Not that his fear wasn’t justified considering the circumstances, but it didn’t exactly make him fit to fill the roles of the great dragon slayers of the legends his father had sometimes told, legends that he could tell his father wanted to believe in, legends that he’d pretended to believe in too… legends that perhaps could even become truth if those who survived the great blaze were a little less like him.

It was a shame, really, that he’d probably never live to see it if they did.

Because the flames were moving closer now, licking their way through the forest once more as the rumble of power he’d felt before faded to little more than a background hum, weak and fragmented in a way that suggested Ryan was seconds away from the freedom he’d once longed for so badly…

The heat faded away a little, trees swaying a little and then breaking away to the side as a great winged beast pushed through, eyes molten intelligence that carefully skimmed the clearing before finally coming to rest on Ryan.

There was a moment of silence, no birdsong this time, as the dragon moved closer, mouth widening into something he’d be tempted to call a smile, were it a human who wore it. He belatedly stumbled back, eyes never leaving the beasts, until he collided with the tree he’d been resting against before, sliding to the ground with a defeated sort of slump as the dragon towered over him.

And then there was fire, hotter than before and burning everywhere, a scream that might have been his own and something else, murmured words by a weak voice that he couldn’t quite place amidst the pain. A voice that was familiar and comforting, even though a part of his mind that wasn’t quite offline yet screamed it shouldn’t be… and then it tailed off, leaving the clearing in silence once more as the screaming and the world faded with it.

\----

When the world swam back into focus hours later, it seemed a lot sharper than before. The colors were more defined, more complex even, the ashes surrounding him glimmering with shades that he was pretty sure hadn’t yet been named or, if they had, not by any person he’d encountered.

Perhaps this, then, was the afterlife. He’d be unlikely to cheat death twice after all… but then, why was the scent of smoke still so strong? Surely that would’ve faded away with death, as would the faint burn still clinging to his muscles which had to mean… he’d survived?

He looked around the clearing for Flynt, breath catching a little when he caught sight of the slightly charred figure slumped over in the middle of the clearing. The dragon seemed to be long gone, perhaps dead too as a result of something the sorcerer had done to protect him in his last moments…

The weight of guilt hung heavy in his chest as he recalled the faint murmurs from before, the desperation in Flynt’s voice earlier when he’d all but screamed at Ryan to run. In all the months he’d spent with the sorcerer, he’d always assumed himself to be more a plaything that anything, something to keep the man entertained. Perhaps he’d even consider him a pet but… he’d never thought to believe that Flynt genuinely cared for his wellbeing. And especially not to the extent that in order to ensure Ryan’s safety he’d sacrifice his own.

And yet the reality of it clung to the air, a cloying stench of fallen ‘friend’ who’d perhaps been a little more deserving of that title that Ryan had originally believed.

He supposed it was the least he could do then to mourn him, and to give the man a proper grave to rest in before he moved on. There was still enough brass clinging to his surroundings to ward off any harpies after all, provided that Flynt had been right about their aversion to the metal and naga rarely strayed this far inland. As for the wargs that may or may not have once plagued these woods, the fire would’ve driven them off the way it drove off any sane creature that came face to face with a dragon’s fury.

Everything burned after all. Humans, harpies, naga, wargs, no matter how weak or strong they all burned the same… even sorcerers, who he’d briefly, naively perhaps, believed had the power to match them burned just the same. Everything burned save the creature which bore those flames…

But the dragon was gone now and no others seemed to have arrived since given the utter silence in the clearing. No signs of life, nor the dead apart from the fallen sorcerer at his feet. Utterly alone.

He wondered if alone had always been this quiet.

Because even the sounds of faint rustlings in the grass had faded, birdsong long since fled, to the point that the entire clearing felt like little more than a pyre that should’ve, by rights, also been his own.

At least the silence was sombre enough to serve as a fitting resting place for the man who’d given his life to save him.

He sighed, starting a little as the sound echoed through the clearing, a little louder than he’d been expecting but… he supposed anything would be loud in a silence this absolute. And he shook off the notion that it’d sounded almost like a low hiss before the thought had even managed to register as such within his mind because surely that was just his own paranoia playing havoc with his senses right now.

It was only when he found himself struggling to get to his feet, something about the way his body was balancing itself forcing him back to all fours whenever he attempted it, that he realized that there might be more than a little paranoia currently in play here.

Had Flynt cursed him?

That was the first immediate thought that crossed his mind as he continued to struggle. Though if he had, why give his life to do so? Flynt seemed like a man who valued self-preservation, why else would he have kept to the relative shelter of these woods all these years? However much he’d enjoyed exercising his control over Ryan’s freedom, he couldn’t imagine the man would’ve sacrificed his final moments just to drive that brand of ownership a little deeper.

Or maybe he would… despite the months he’d spent with him, Ryan still hardly knew the man. Flynt didn’t exactly make it easy, after all, to get to know him too well.

Of course any thoughts he had about the late sorcerer quickly fled his mind when he noticed the presence of one other detail in particular that he’d somehow failed to notice before, said detail swishing a little violently between his legs in response to that, as if it’d been waiting to grab his attention before making itself known.

_A tail._ Ryan Haywood had a fucking _tail_.

An alarmed sound escaped his lips, the sound itself startling Ryan back a little further across the clearing as he registered just how much it sounded like the snarl, and how the back of his throat had suddenly seemed to burn a little, though not unpleasantly, in response…

He looked down, a sudden suspicion forming within his mind as he suddenly began to note how Flynt seemed a little smaller than the distance between them allowed him too, and that yes those were fucking _claws_ he could see out of the corner of his eye, large and sharp and somehow even more terrifying than the last time he’d seen ones of this magnitude because they were inexplicably and impossibly _his._

Another twitch of his tail startled him again, almost veering him over onto his side in the process, as he just barely caught himself with something else he hadn’t exactly been expecting as a sudden bundle of muscle made itself known at his back; a bundle that almost felt like _wings._

In his last moments Flynt had turned him into a fucking _dragon_.

Perhaps that was why the other dragon had fled, why he’d survived when Flynt had fallen and why the other creatures were keeping their distance now. After all, a dragon was the greatest of all beasts. Many believed that nothing could slay them, hell Ryan had counted himself amidst that group. It was why he’d run when the dragon had come for its revenge, both times, because one did not simply stand in the path of a dragon’s wrath and survive the encounter.

And yet here he was, and for the first time since the great blaze began, Ryan liked his odds of continuing to survive it.


End file.
